


cold memories, warm hugs

by astralpride



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: subtle/hidden mentions of wilbur soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralpride/pseuds/astralpride
Summary: in which phil both misses and hates the past, but has hope that his wings will carry him to a better future.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson
Kudos: 10





	cold memories, warm hugs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this thread](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/766380) by shitdudeidk. 



phil's wings are like his relationships with his sons most of the time nowadays: wounded and dysfunctional, but still there. beloved and missed, but irreplaceable.

so there he is, sitting outside on the wooden porch of techno's cabin in the snow, gazing up at the stars. his thick green robe is doing a good job of keeping him warm, and the second feathery layer of his damaged wings gives them one useful purpose out here besides decoration, at least. perhaps he should have left his signature sandals at home in favor of a pair of cozy boots, though. that might've been a smarter idea, had he thought of it. it doesn't really come to mind when he wears them just about everywhere else he goes where it's warmer, though. he's shivering, and the wood he's sitting on is quite literally ice-cold; he can see his foggy breath as he exhales, and he's physically uncomfortable, but despite all this the peace of mind that the stars bring him is worth it.

he does have a house of his own now, finally - he just finished building it. all it needs now is touch-ups and personal style added to it to make it more cozier. but tonight he doesn't want to be alone. he knew techno wouldn't judge him for feeling the need to spend the night elsewhere as a thirty-two year-old grown man. he was always welcome to pay a visit to his loved ones, he'd said. a bit abnormal for the parental figure to go to their child's house rather than the other way around, but this is what they tend to prefer.

currently, techno's inside the house enjoying a hot cup of cocoa, as pigs do, but he didn't forget to make another one for phil too. the cup sits just a few inches away from him on the porch. oh, how tempting it is to allow himself to feel just the slightest bit of warmth, but phil just can't bring himself to. his justification to avoid it? he tells himself in an inaudible whisper, "it's not that cold." rattle. harsh breathing. shiver. "it could never be as cold as he was." he hugs himself tighter. "and for all he's done, he could never be as bitterly cold as you left him that day." the memory causes him to zone out - on the plus side, forgetting his surroundings means he doesn't have to think about how numb his exposed fingers coming out of his protective gloves feel.

an explosion that sounds like melodious fireworks is what startles him back to consciousness. he forgets how closed-in he's made himself and jolts up in a heartbeat to find out what happened. but he's confused, because there is nothing to celebrate, and there's nothing to destroy or make a statement about, either. there's no war going on, and it's certainly not as bad as it used to be back when their sleepy little family was always keeping an eye out for each other, just as brothers and fathers were supposed to do. there were no battles over land. well - there was no land to be fought over anyway. thanks to, of course...

he wanders all the way around the cabin. he creeps out to the woods, looking for any sign of light or any smell of debris. nothing. he trudges back over to the porch and sits back down, this time only slightly more wary than before.

it takes him several minutes until phil realizes that that was not, in fact, a live explosion close by, but rather an echo of a memory from months past. that's the hardest part about having to witness it all first-hand; while it left a massive impact on everyone that day, he had to watch it all go down from just three feet away or so. and he had to be the one to end it against his will.

"what are you doin'?" unbeknownst to techno, he echoes the exact words of his father at exactly the wrong time. unlike the first time it was said though, the sentence comes out in a light-hearted but concerned tone of voice rather than accusatory and petrified. regardless, phil he isn't as out of it as he was earlier. "hmm?" he slowly opens his eyes to a warm artificial light seeping in through the open door. a shadow appears standing on the porch beside him in the shape of a pig.

"only you would overwork yourself so hard that you end up fallin' asleep on a hard surface out in the snow rather than just comin' inside with the cozy fire right there, phil." he pats the elder on the shoulder and offers his hand out to help him up.

tired, phil chuckles a little and takes it. "it's... really not that. i haven't really done much today, actually. i'm not sure why i've been in this state for the past few days now." they walk inside, techno shuts the door, and phil allows himself to relax and take a deep breath. "perhaps it's just the seasonal depression," he reasons, more with himself than with techno. "we've been through a lot these past few years, so this is really just the least of my worries nowadays."

"naaahhhhh, don't just shrug it off like ya always do this time." no one could ever hope to drag that sound out the way techno can. "you're my dad, your worries are just as valid as anyone else's, no matter how big or small. you should know this." as he says this, he grabs another blanket from the sofa and wraps it around his senior with gentle care.

but before phil can either object or thank his closest son, techno bolts into his bedroom to fetch something. from the other room, he calls out, "hey phil, this is pretty off-topic and i hope it isn't too uncomfortable of a question but uh, how are your wings?"

that wasn't quite what he was expecting. he raises his eyebrows and barely lifts his right wing, the only one he can. "i mean, you kinda know the answer to that already, yeah? shit, useless condition since november. ...why?"

"well..." techno steps out, holding a long object with both hands. "...i made you this." phil takes a peek at what he's holding; a spiky, paper-like fold banded together. the description doesn't make it seem like a high-quality project at first glance, but it is quite durable and well-made.

the elder's eyes go wide with surprise as techno holds his work out to him, as he thinks he recognizes the shape. had techno been looking directly into his eyes, he would probably be able to see them sparkle and glint, which they hadn't done for far too long now. "hopin'... y'know, hopin' it helps or... or somethin'. it's not feathery or familiar by any means, but it's the best i could do."

rendered completely speechless, phil allows techno to help him try the handmade pair of wings on. it's tough; techno ends up having to take them off completely to find a snag and fix it a couple times, but it's not too difficult. then again though, the hard part was having to remove the wings he already had on first. nonetheless, it was done slowly and carefully. this king knows damn well what he's doing, that's for sure.

and so, once they're secured on his back through the two slits in his dark green robe, phil stares at them in awe, mouth agape. he gives them a gentle flutter just to make sure he could feel them on his back there, one at a time. he covers his mouth with his still-cold hands, his fingerless gloves keeping part of them warm, at least. techno observes his father the whole time, proud of what he's proven himself capable to do. "oh hey, looks like they're fittin' pretty well there, huh?" he notices out loud.

phil still can't pull his hands from his mouth, so once he finally speaks, it simply comes off as a soft "techno..."

techno smiles softly, something he's known for rarely ever doing. next thing he knows, he's being gripped tightly into a hug by a happy-to-tears phil. he spreads his new wings out around them both, emphasizing the closeness of their relationship to each other. "thank you..." phil rarely ever cries, but tonight he's sobbing into techno's chest.

"you're welcome, phil." techno puts his hands around phil's back and rubs it up and down gently in a comforting gesture. "you know i love ya. now, warm up and get some rest - it's late. tomorrow, we'll see if those wings can get ya up in the air, eh?"

**Author's Note:**

> putting this here cause even though i love writing, it can be difficult for me to pick up on small hints sometimes, so this is something i'd appreciate to see on another work ykyk:
> 
> "an explosion that sounds like melodious fireworks is what startles him back to consciousness. he forgets how closed-in he's made himself and jolts up in a heartbeat to find out what happened. but he's confused, because there is nothing to celebrate, and there's nothing to destroy or make a statement about, either."
> 
> this is supposed to be like. a sort of ironic parallel because this scene is a subconscious flashback to vilbur blowing up l'manburg - as we know, he saw what he did as a "good" thing, or at least as a solution to everything he saw wrong with it then. so "nothing to celebrate" and "nothing to make a statement about" SEEMS general and vague but it's really the exact opposite of what was going through vilbur's head that day :)
> 
> hope this makes sense lmao


End file.
